Pancakes, I decide late on Sunday night. I really want pancakes. The return of the fatigue has brought, strangely enough, a return of the nausea here and there. I’ll report it to my doctor on Thursday in case it is a piece in a far more sinister puzzle, but for now I’m chalking it up to the hormones and seeking pancakes.
Denny’s is there for me on Monday morning. After a drive to work with R, for it is raining and he is going out drinking tonight, I head for the nearest one I can think of. The pancakes come as part of a set menu and, for a few moments, they are the most glorious things ever and life is good. There is nothing quite like satisfying a craving.